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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29414418">black eyes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeliciaAmelloides/pseuds/FeliciaAmelloides'>FeliciaAmelloides</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lord of the Flies - William Golding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Gen, How Do I Tag, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mental Instability, Not Romance, Out of Character, Post-Canon, Songfic, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:41:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,860</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29414418</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeliciaAmelloides/pseuds/FeliciaAmelloides</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At first he had just wanted to talk to Jack, to try to get some sort of closure, maybe. But that wasn't enough. It would never be enough. </p><p>No. </p><p>In order to finish what they had started, in order to fix whatever had broken in his mind, in order to finally end his torment once and for all, there was only one thing Ralph could do. </p><p>Find Jack, and <em>end him</em>. </p><p>*</p><p>Or: Ralph travels halfway across the world searching for Jack to finally finish what they had started on the island.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Merridew &amp; Ralph, Jack Merridew/Ralph</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>black eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Long time no see! I haven't posted anything lengthy on here since 2018, so I'm really glad to have finally finished a longer fic (especially since this is my longest oneshot to date). This fic is inspired by the song Black Eyes by Radical Face, which I highly recommend you listen to: https://youtu.be/3HcESERdGG4</p><p>I tagged this fic Jalph because there is a little bit in there, but it's not at all a romantic fic so please click away if that's what you were looking for. <strong>TW alcohol, violence, blood, one mention of homophobia (not Jack or Ralph being homophobic)</strong></p><p>Also, I should probably clarify something about the timelines: in this fic the events of LotF took place in 1954, when Jack was 11 and Ralph was 12. The fic is set in 1970, so Jack is 27 and Ralph is 28. Ralph has been actively searching for Jack since he became an adult. </p><p>Hope you enjoy the fic!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Manhattan, 1970</em> </p><p>'<em>The Horse's Head</em>'<br/>
A little morbid, Ralph had thought upon first hearing the name. He was looking at the slip of paper in his hand with the bar's address written on it. Confirming this was definitely the right place with a glance, he raised his eyes back to the bar. </p><p><em>The Horse's Head</em> wasn't exactly the most prestigious establishment. It was located in some grotty little corner of New York City, long forgotten by anyone with anything to lose. Its exterior was blood red, paint peeling in places to reveal the black rot underneath. The sign hanging above the door seemed to be on the verge of crashing to the ground. If the whole building were to collapse into dust right now, Ralph wouldn't be surprised. </p><p>Ralph felt there was a bitter irony to the decade-long search which had taken him across continents ending here, in this shithole of a bar. How anticlimactic. </p><p>Still, he supposed the journey to get here had been interesting if nothing else. </p><p>Finding this place had been a gruelling ordeal. In the beginning, all he had to go off was a vague recollection of the name of Jack's school. Of course, he was no longer a student by the time Ralph arrived there. Under the guise of being an old friend seeking to find out what had become of him, Ralph pressed the school receptionist until eventually she caved and brought him to an aged choir master who claimed to remember Jack. </p><p><em>"He was the finest chorister I've ever taught," </em> The old choir master had said proudly as he poured Ralph a cup of tea (he didn't touch it), "<em>His vocal range was unlike any other. It's an awful shame he decided to give up singing- he had talent. That and he could keep those choir boys in line almost better than I could. He would have made an excellent choir master." He chuckled at that. Ralph looked down at his cup, trying to hide his grimace under a look of indifference.</em> </p><p>"<em>Do you know what happened to him after he left here?</em>" </p><p>"<em>The same as all our boys- off to secondary school, and then to a job after that. I'd imagine he went into business. After all, he has his father's legacy to uphold.</em>" </p><p>Ralph was eventually able to get the name of the secondary school from the choir master, although he had been frustrated at the time that he wasn't able to learn more. That was before he learnt just how hard it was to find someone, just how valuable even the smallest piece of information would be. </p><p>From that point onwards, Ralph had devoted himself to tracing Jack's footsteps. The staff of his prestigious secondary school were only too happy to talk about the son of one of their most generous contributors. Their shameless boasting was sickening, but Ralph did learn that Jack had somehow managed to get into Harvard University. </p><p>He hadn't expected his search would take him overseas at the time, and was already dreading having to travel by plane. It was just like Jack to find some way to make him suffer without even being aware of it. He could have quit then, he supposed. It would have been so easy to run back to his shitty little flat in his shitty little town, whiling away his days working a shitty little job until the day he died. </p><p>But there was something in Ralph which forbade him from letting this go. Maybe it was because he had already gotten this far. Perhaps it was because he couldn't bear to return to his shitty little life without getting some kind of justice. </p><p>Or possibly it was something he had known all along. Something he hadn't been willing to accept. </p><p>Every night since he returned from the island, Ralph had lain awake for hours, knowing the horrors which lurked in the shadows were waiting with bared teeth for him to succumb to his exhaustion. Even after everything else - the flinching at the slightest sound, the perpetually shaking hands, the muteness-gradually lessened to the point that, to an outsider, he almost seemed normal, the nightmares persisted. </p><p>Eventually he couldn't take it anymore. He was forced to accept the truth of the matter. </p><p>At first he had just wanted to talk to Jack, to try to get some sort of closure, maybe. But that wasn't enough. It would never be enough. </p><p>No. </p><p>In order to finish what they had started, in order to fix whatever had broken in his mind, in order to finally end his torment once and for all, there was only one thing Ralph could do. </p><p>Find Jack, and <em>end him</em>. </p><p>He spent the plane journey being violently sick, body shaking and tears threatening to spill from his eyelids the entire way over. Once he reached the other side, he spent hours curled up in a ball in the airport bathroom waiting for the tremors to stop. </p><p>The search ran cold for several weeks while Ralph was in Boston. Harvard was a big university, and most of the people he was able to talk to hadn't so much as heard of Jack. After several fruitless conversations, he was able to get in contact with a professor who irritably informed him that Jack had dropped out in his third year. </p><p>"<em>He was one of my best students. So much potential, all thrown away just like that. Young people these days, never know how to appreciate the opportunities God hands them...</em>"  </p><p>"<em>Have you any idea where he went?"</em> </p><p>"<em>I wouldn't be surprised if he returned home. A lot of people come here thinking they're going to get the American Dream right on their doorstep, only to realise it takes time and effort to achieve that."</em> </p><p>Exhausted and frustrated, Ralph had decided to head to a nearby bar to get a drink and consider his options. He had spent almost all of his money on the plane ticket to get here, and likely wouldn't be able to stay in the country for much longer unless he managed to find a job (not to mention the formal documentation he would need in order to get said job). </p><p>But he couldn't give up. Not after he had come all this way. </p><p>"<em>Something on your mind?" A voice asked. Ralph looked up to see the bartender had addressed him.</em> </p><p>"<em>It's nothing." He muttered, eyes trained on the glass in his hand. The bartender, failing to read the atmosphere, continued attempting to have a conversation with him.</em> </p><p>"<em>Sure about that? You've been staring into space for a while now. Might be good to get it off your chest."</em> </p><p><em>When Ralph didn't respond, the bartender examined him closely before saying, "...I know. Girl troubles, am I right?"</em> </p><p><em>"Something like that." Ralph decided just to go along with it, hoping it would make the conversation end faster. The bartender smiled knowingly.</em> </p><p><em>"I knew it. I could see it in your eyes. So what happened? She leave you for another guy?" </em> </p><p>"<em>She... yeah. She left without a trace. I've been looking, but..." Ralph trailed off, feeling a little embarrassed that he had started sharing his life problems with some random person.</em> </p><p>"<em>Typical. Girl like her don't know what she's missing. There are tons of ladies on this side of the pond who'd go crazy for a Brit like you."</em> </p><p>"<em>Thank you...?" </em> </p><p>"<em>It's the accent, if you ask me. Girls just love a British accent. Actually, I'm a little jealous.</em>" </p><p><em>Ralph had stopped paying attention. Instead, he was looking at a poster which had been taped to the side of the bar. </em> </p><p><em>"They have live music here?" He asked absent-mindedly. </em> </p><p><em>"Oh, that poster there?" The bartender chuckled sheepishly, "We really ought to have taken it down by now. Haven't had any live music for a couple years. We used to have this great guy- Brit like you- used to play piano and sing here every night. The regulars loved him- everyone did. Wonder why he ended up leaving... Oh right, I think he was a student or something. Guess he must've graduated. A damn shame, if you ask me."</em> </p><p><em>A strange feeling had started to bloom in Ralph's gut as he listened to the bartender's rambling. Could it be? Surely there was no way... but maybe...</em> </p><p>"<em>What was his name?" He asked, chest pounding. The bartender's next answer had the potential to change everything.</em> </p><p>"<em>His name? Hmm, let's see... John? No, that's not it... Jake? Maybe... Jack?"</em> </p><p><em>Ralph's breath hitched, "Jack Merridew?" </em> </p><p>"<em>Yeah, that was it! Do you know him?"</em> </p><p>"<em>He's... an old classmate of mine." Ralph could barely contain his excitement. Of all the places he could have found a lead, he would never have expected it to be here.</em> </p><p>"<em>Really? God, what a small world! Were you close?"</em> </p><p>"<em>You could say that. Say, have you got any idea where he might have gone to? I'd love to catch up if he's still in town."</em> </p><p>"<em>Last time I saw him he was heading out of state. Vegas, I think? No idea why he'd want to go there, though. Sorry kid. </em>" </p><p><em> By the time the bartender finished speaking, Ralph was halfway out the door. </em> </p><p>In spite of his rush to leave that night, it ended up taking Ralph well over a year to get to Las Vegas. He was stuck in Boston for a few more months while he waited for his documentation to be authorised, time he spent doing some more digging into where exactly Jack had gone. He eventually managed to find out that Jack had some kind of job lined up in Vegas which is why he had left so suddenly. Ralph wasn't quite sure why he had abandoned his education and potential future career for this job, and quite frankly he didn't particularly care as long as it didn't prevent him from finding him. He was also able to glean a rough idea of where in Vegas Jack was living from some former colleagues at the bar. </p><p>By the time Ralph had his documentation, he was almost completely broke. He had spent almost every night in that bar gathering information to the point that most of the employees knew him by name. In fact, he had befriended the bartender who had conversed with him on the first night and eventually allowed him to stay at his place until he was able to get employment and accommodation of his own. Even with all of this help, he still ended up spending most of his money on food and other essentials. </p><p>Despite his new friends imploring him to stay, Ralph had no intention of abandoning his quest. After leaving Boston, he began working odd jobs to get by, stopping in places for a week or so at a time in order to earn a little bit of cash before moving on to the next place. Accommodation was hard to come by- he largely slept in crummy motels and on people's sofas, even occasionally sleeping outside. It was hard, but little by little he inched closer to Vegas. </p><p>It felt quite unreal the first time Ralph laid eyes on the Las Vegas skyline. There were times at which he genuinely didn't believe he would make it. But now he was here, and that meant he was one step closer to completing his quest. </p><p>Finding Jack in this city was likely to be just as hard as finding him in the last one even with the information he'd gathered in Boston. The first thing Ralph did was rent a little apartment above a launderette in the area Jack supposedly lived so at the very least he would have somewhere to sleep. </p><p>For the first couple of weeks, Ralph spent his free time contacting as many landlords as he could find, figuring if he could find out exactly where Jack was living it would narrow down the places he had to search. However, none of the landlords who were willing to talk to him could give him even the tiniest piece of information. He briefly considered whether Jack might have bought a place instead, but there was no way a college dropout who had run away to Vegas would have that kind of money. Not unless he was very good at gambling anyway. </p><p>Remembering his luck in Boston, Ralph decided he might as well visit the local bars and ask around. It was that or go from door to door asking everyone in the city, which he would really rather avoid if possible. He mentally cursed Jack for being so elusive. How did one go from constantly being the centre of attention to dropping off the face of the Earth? </p><p>None of the bar staff had heard of any Jack Merridew, but supposedly there was another ginger British piano player who played at a venue a few streets away. His name was accompanied by dark mutters about the place stealing everyone's business. It wasn't much of a lead, but it was better than anything Ralph had discovered so far. He went to investigate. </p><p>It was just the same as in Boston. A pianist by the name of Jack Evans (Jack had apparently changed his name) had swept through this little venue, winning the hearts and wallets of the audience, and then moved on to some big job in another city as abruptly as he had arrived. </p><p>He was running. And Ralph was determined to catch up. </p><p>The next few years were some of the most exhausting of Ralph's life. He lived in a constant state of impermanence. When he wasn't travelling somewhere new he was working, gathering information, never once stopping to breathe. Over this time his hatred for Jack had slowly morphed into a twisted obsession. He occupied his every waking thought, his every nightmare. </p><p>At night Ralph found himself staring up at the ceiling or the sky depending on how lucky he had been that day, fantasising about the day he finally found him. Jack would recognise him, there was no doubt about that. The way he reacted varied from day to day. Sometimes he would be shocked into silence, staring blankly at Ralph's face. Sometimes he would be angry, and the fight to end everything would start. And sometimes, on the very darkest nights when Ralph had lost all sense of the sanity he had once cherished, the imaginary Jack would be desperately afraid. Ralph gained a sick sense of satisfaction from imagining his death. </p><p>Jack remained elusive. Whenever Ralph thought he had reached the right place, he had already moved on somewhere else. Once he thought he might have seen him, a flash of red hair disappearing onto a bus which vanished right as Ralph reached it. That night was one of the dark ones. </p><p>It was a few months after this when Ralph arrived in Manhattan. <em>The Horse's Head</em>, that morbid, crumbling bar, loomed before him. </p><p>* </p><p>Ralph's fist clenched, crushing the slip of paper on which he had written the address the night before. This would be the place. That was what he told himself every time. This would be the place. </p><p>Inhaling deeply, Ralph stepped through the bar's doors. </p><p>Immediately his senses were assaulted by the thick stench of alcohol entwined with the light sound of fingers moving over piano keys. There was an intense, almost reverent hush hanging over the bar's patrons, broken only by the occasional whisper. Most people stood in silence, transfixed by the beautiful sounds coming from the piano. </p><p>Ralph pushed his way through the crowd to where the instrument stood in the centre of the room. Even the piano had been affected by the bar's morose atmosphere. Its black surface was chipped and stained by liquids of unknown origin, and it seemed on the verge of falling apart. </p><p>And there, seated on a ripped up leather stool with the stuffing coming out, his slender fingers moving deftly across the keys, was undeniably Jack Merridew. </p><p>Ralph's breath caught in his throat. Jack looked older (it had been almost twenty years since he had last seen him, after all). Streaks of grey twisted through his red locks, and his face was tainted with weariness. His bony, awkward adolescent frame had filled out somewhat, but there was still a hint of his younger self in the sharp lines of his face. Ralph stared, unable to look away. He felt as if Jack was a mirage, flickering vaguely in front of him only to vanish from sight if he approached. </p><p>The song ended, and the drunken patrons standing around the piano burst into uproarious, sloppy applause. Jack's eyes, which had been trained on the piano in intense concentration, darted upwards to look around the room. For a brief moment they settled on Ralph, and lingered. Ralph's body instinctively tensed. Those icy blue eyes hadn't changed in the slightest. </p><p>It must have only been a second or so, but it felt like Ralph had been trapped in Jack's gaze for a tiny piece of eternity. Rage flooded through him after the initial rush of terror. Soon Jack wouldn't be able to look at him, or anything at all for that matter, ever again. </p><p>Ralph ordered a glass of ice water from the bar, ignoring the glare the bartender shot at him, and stood silently beside the counter. His mind whirred as he tried to come up with a plan. He needed to get Jack alone somehow. Then... well, he knew what he had to do. Getting Jack alone was his priority for now. </p><p>Eventually the chatter started to die down, and patrons stumbled out of <em>The Horse's Head </em> into the cold night. Jack continued playing, seemingly uninterested in his surroundings. Every once in a while his gaze drifted up to Ralph in a nonchalant sort of way, then flitted back to his music. Each time Ralph was seized with a feeling of panic, wondering for a moment if he had been recognised. The feeling grew even stronger when, as the bartender called out for last orders, Jack got up from the piano and made his way over to the bar. </p><p>"The usual," He muttered to the bartender who nodded and reached for a bottle. The sound of his voice, however brief, sent a chill down Ralph's spine, "And one for him, if he wants it." </p><p>Ralph's eyes widened. Jack was looking directly at him now, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. There was something in his expression reminiscent of the boy Ralph had climbed the mountain with all those years ago, the one who had been just as delighted by the ethereal beauty of the island as him. </p><p>"It's craft ale, made by the owner. I might be biased since I work here, but it's not bad. You should try it. You look like you could do with one." Ralph was frozen in place. He had fantasised about this moment for years, but now that he was here and Jack was talking to him it was hard to stay composed. He took a breath and steeled himself. There was no backing out now. </p><p>"Okay." He choked out, hoping Jack couldn't somehow see his intentions. The other just smiled and handed him a glass the bartender had set down in front of them. Ralph took it hesitantly. He had wanted to stay sober for this, but surely one sip would be fine, to calm his nerves? </p><p>"What do you think?" Jack asked, watching him as he tentatively sipped from the glass. </p><p>"It's good." Ralph replied. He was so nervous that he hadn't even registered the taste, not that it mattered. </p><p>Jack took a swig from his own glass, emptying it in seconds. "I haven't seen you around here before. Just moved here?" </p><p>"No, I'm- just visiting." </p><p>"Really? I'm surprised you were able to find your way here. Tourists don't usually come to this part of town. You're from England, right?" </p><p>"Yes." Ralph answered stiffly. Out of all the ways he'd envisioned this encounter, he'd never expected them to just have a regular conversation. Did Jack really not recognise him? </p><p>Jack sighed and reached for another drink, "It's been a while since I met another Englishman. I haven't been back there in a long time." </p><p>"Why did you leave?" Ralph asked. As much as his brain was screaming at him to run, he knew he had to talk to Jack. Gaining his trust would make it easier to get him alone somewhere. Besides, he couldn't deny that stalking the other for all these years had left him a little curious as to what he'd done with his life. </p><p>"To get away from my parents, mainly. Bastards." Jack's lip curled with disgust when he brought up his parents. Ralph hadn't considered his home life before. He wondered for a moment what Jack had been like before he knew him, what sort of childhood had twisted him into such a monster. </p><p>"I was going to go back at some point," Jack continued, "But then I started taking jobs playing piano in various places, and I suppose I never stopped." </p><p>"You play well." Ralph hated that that was true. He had never been one for music, but there was something almost enchanting about Jack's playing. He could see why the bar had fallen silent to hear him. </p><p>"Thank you. It's one of the only things I'm good at." Ralph frowned. He never would have expected the constantly boasting Jack he knew to say something like that. </p><p>"So what about you? Why are you visiting New York of all places?" Jack asked, now onto his third drink. He drank quickly, urgently, as if his life depended on it. Ralph pulled a face. He'd never been fond of heavy drinkers. </p><p>"I was hoping to find someone here. An old friend." He stared into his almost full glass, watching the amber liquid sparkle faintly in the light. </p><p>"I see. What are they like?" </p><p>The barrage of questions was starting to get on Ralph's nerves. He struggled not to grimace. </p><p>"He-" He swallowed. Was Jack sitting closer to him than before? Their arms were almost touching, "He's... a right tosser. Back when I knew him, he was constantly running around yelling and trying to pick fights." </p><p>"And he's your friend?" </p><p>Oh, right. Ralph had forgotten for a second that he was supposed to be describing a friend, "Yeah. I guess, even if he is a tosser... he's never been boring." </p><p>"I had a friend like that once," Jack said softly, as if to himself, "We were always arguing. We could never agree on anything. Eventually, we- we fell out permanently. When I left England, I left him too. I haven't seen him in years." </p><p>Ralph had stiffened. He couldn't be talking about him, right? No, of course not. Jack wouldn't call him a friend. </p><p>"I still think about him sometimes," Jack muttered, ignorant of Ralph's silence. Suddenly he looked up, seemingly returning to his senses, "Hey, do you want to get out of here? They're closing up now, but I'd like to keep talking with you if you don't mind." </p><p>That was what he had been waiting for. Ralph forced a weak smile onto his face. "Sure." </p><p>Jack returned the smile. Ralph found the expression unnerving. "Wait for me outside. I'll get my things and be right there." </p><p>With that, he downed his final drink and stood up, heading for a door with the words '<strong>STAFF ONLY</strong>' painted on it in crimson letters. Ralph watched his retreating form warily. When he reached the door, Jack shot him another smile before disappearing inside. </p><p>Ralph was about to head out as Jack had instructed when the bartender's voice cut across the empty bar. </p><p>"You'd better be careful." </p><p>"Excuse me?" Ralph asked, ignoring the way his blood froze at those words. </p><p>"You're not the first guy Evans has gotten talking to at the end of his shifts. They're always the same type. Tall, blond, blue eyes... I wouldn't leave with him if I were you. He's one of the best pianists I've ever heard, but I'll be damned if he ain't a queer." </p><p>Ralph's breath caught in his throat. Now that he thought about it, Jack had been somewhat overfamiliar with him since they'd started talking. He kept leaning in closer when Ralph spoke, too. Could he really have been...? No. Of course not. Why would he show any interest in him? Besides, it didn't matter. Jack's feelings towards him couldn't change what he needed to do next. </p><p>He nodded at the bartender, trying to hide his distaste at the blatant disgust in the man's voice, "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind." </p><p>The cold outside air made Ralph shiver a little. He leant against the wall outside the bar to wait for Jack. </p><p>A bitter laugh escaped his lips as he thought back to the bartender's words. The him of the past, that bright eyed boy who knew nothing of the darkness of mankind, would have been overjoyed to hear that Jack might have felt something for him. Now the idea only filled him with rage. Why now? He had expected Jack to dislike him, even if he hadn't recognised him. Why did he always have to make everything so damn difficult? </p><p>The sound of the door opening made Ralph flinch. Jack stepped out, his eyes immediately finding their way to Ralph's. </p><p>"My apartment isn't far from here. Shall we?" </p><p>Ralph nodded numbly. Jack smiled and started walking, gesturing to Ralph to follow. </p><p>Ralph was grateful that Jack didn't talk to him too much on the way there. Conflicting thoughts rattled around his skull. He had waited so long for this, but now that the moment was upon him he couldn't help but feel uncertain. The Jack he saw in front of him was so... different from the one he'd known. It was hard to see him as the same unhinged boy who had tried to murder him so long ago. And now he was the unhinged one about to murder Jack. Could he really do this? </p><p>"We're here." His thoughts were interrupted by Jack's voice. The redhead had stopped outside a run down building. It seemed to be a block of flats, with stairs on the outside of the building stretching up to the higher levels. Jack withdrew a set of keys from his coat pocket and unlocked the door on the ground floor. </p><p>Ralph took a shuddering breath. He couldn't back down now. Not when he was so close. </p><p>He followed Jack into the darkness of the apartment. </p><p>* </p><p>"Sorry about the mess." Jack said as he switched on the overhead light. The apartment was made up of just four rooms. The one they stood in now was presumably a living room, although it didn't seem like the sort of room one would want to live in. Various items of clothing were scattered about on the floor, and the coffee table was covered in empty beer bottles, unopened letters and old newspapers. The plain wallpaper was peeling at the edges, smudges of mold visible underneath. The smell of alcohol and decay hung in the air. </p><p>"It's fine." Ralph muttered, fingers dipping into his coat pocket for the weapon he'd brought with him for the occasion. His fingertips met the handle of the knife, tucked away in its leather sheath. He felt it was fitting to kill Jack with the very weapon he had wanted to use on him. Even so, a tremor ran through him as he closed his hand around the handle. </p><p>"Do you want something to drink?" Jack asked, stepping through a door to the left, presumably to the kitchen. </p><p>"No." Ralph tried to steady his shaking hand. He needed to stay calm if he was going to do this. Slowly he edged towards the kitchen. </p><p>"You must think I'm a right mess," Jack was saying as he retrieved a bottle of vodka from a battered looking cupboard, "Not that you'd be wrong. A college dropout with an alcohol problem who works in a bar for a living. Not exactly the life I thought I'd have at twenty seven." </p><p>"Mine isn't much better," Ralph said without thinking. Jack turned to him, and he quickly let the knife drop back into his pocket, "That is... I've spent the last few years drifting from place to place, doing odd jobs and things. I guess I haven't thought much about settling down." </p><p>Jack took a sip straight from the bottle, "I'm the same. I haven't lived anywhere for longer than a year since I left England." </p><p>'<em>Don't I know it...</em>' Ralph thought. Jack stepped past him and went to sit on the couch, patting the space next to him. Ralph obliged, trying to sit as far away from him as possible without him noticing. </p><p>"You know, there's something familiar about you," Ralph jolted in his seat. Jack had fixed him with an intent stare. His voice was a little slurred, and Ralph prayed to every deity out there he was too drunk to recognise him, "No, it's probably my fault... Everyone I bring here looks like you." </p><p>"What are you talking about?" Ralph recalled what the bartender at <em>The Horse's Head</em> had said to him. '<em>You're not the first guy Evans has gotten talking to at the end of his shifts. They're always the same type.'</em> </p><p>"I'm stupid," Jack's voice had gone soft again. He was looking away from Ralph now, his gaze settling on the newspapers on the table, "I half hoped and half dreaded I'd stumble across him some day. Sometimes I think I see him in a crowd, or through a window. He's haunting me. I thought-" </p><p>He broke off, took another swig of vodka. Ralph just listened in silence. </p><p>Jack started talking again, his voice becoming more rapid and feverish with every word, "I thought I could run away. If I buried myself somewhere far away and never bothered anyone again, he'd leave me alone. But I can never escape him. No matter how many I bring here, no matter how many times I tell them the things I wanted him to know, it's not enough... They're not him." </p><p>"Who is he?" Ralph asked, already knowing the answer. Jack didn't reply. He was still staring at the coffee table. Ralph followed his gaze, although his fingers were already reaching again for the knife. </p><p>What he saw made his heart stop. </p><p>The newspaper on top of the stack was torn and yellowing at the edges. On the front page there was a large photo, one Ralph knew all too well. The picture depicted a group of unsmiling boys in torn up clothes. Above it was the headline '<strong>MISSING SCHOOLBOYS HOME AT LAST</strong>'. </p><p>Ralph remembered standing for this photo. It was the day they'd got back from the island. He had wanted nothing more than to get as far away from the boys who had tried to kill him as possible, but the adults had forced him to stand there beside them for what felt like an eternity as the cameras flashed on and on. </p><p>He scanned the faces of the boys in the picture. Most had their heads down, trying to duck away from the onlookers. Many, especially the younger ones, were crying. Only one boy was looking directly at the camera, his blank stare chilling Ralph to the bone even now. If anyone scared him more than Jack, it was Roger. </p><p>Jack and Ralph were stood at opposite ends of the group. Ralph looked at their bedraggled appearances, the tired look in their eyes, and wondered what things would have been like if all of the terrible things had never happened. Would they have had different expressions? Would they have been standing together? </p><p>No, it wasn't worth thinking about. Those things had happened, and nothing would ever change that. But Ralph could put an end to his pain now. </p><p>"Did you see this when it was first published?" Jack's voice cut through the silence, "It was all people talked about at the time. The miraculous rescue of the plane crash survivors. No one could believe they were alive." </p><p>"I saw it." Ralph's voice came out hoarse. </p><p>Suddenly Jack leant towards him, grasping one of his arms, the one gripping the knife, to steady himself. "I can't escape, Ralph... No matter how hard I try, I can't escape." </p><p>Ralph was so stunned by Jack saying his name that he barely registered the other's lips pressing against his own. It took him a few seconds to notice Jack was kissing him fervently, the bitter taste of alcohol exploding into his mouth. </p><p>As soon as he realised what was happening, Ralph's fist swung hard into Jack's jaw. The redhead fell backwards with a cry, looking up at Ralph with a dazed expression. </p><p>"What the hell are you doing?" Ralph snapped, unable to keep his voice from rising. </p><p>"I- Shit, sorry, I thought you knew that's why I brought you here! Fuck, I probably shouldn't have drank so much..." Jack was barely coherent, seemingly still reeling from the pain. </p><p>"You said my name," Ralph's hand dove into his pocket, found the knife a third time, "You knew, didn't you? You knew who you were talking to all this time." </p><p>"What?" Jack sat up, clutching his face, "Did I say a name? I didn't mean to-" </p><p>"Don't play dumb. You recognised me and you still had the fucking nerve to do that? After everything you've done to me?" </p><p>"I don't know what you think I said, but I honestly have no idea who you are. Look, I really am sorry for not being clear about what I brought you here for. I'll call you a cab and-" </p><p>"Merridew," Ralph's knuckles had turned white where he gripped the knife handle. The blood drained from Jack's face, "Jack Merridew. That's your name, isn't it?" </p><p>When Jack next spoke, his voice was very quiet, "How do you know that?" </p><p>"You're still pretending you don't know who I am?" Ralph leant closer, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction as Jack shrank from him. He made no answer, staring at Ralph with wide eyes. Seeing that expression on his face, Ralph felt something snap inside him. </p><p>It was time. </p><p>Ralph drew the knife from its sheath and lunged forwards, pinning Jack down with one hand and holding the blade to his throat with the other. Jack let out a strangled cry, too taken aback to fight him. Ralph pressed the blade in just hard enough to make a red line in the soft white skin. </p><p>"You really want me to say it, huh? Fine then. I'm the boy you tried to kill on the island. The one you can't escape from. Ralph." </p><p>"N-no..." Jack gasped from underneath him, "No! That's impossible, you're- you're on the other side of the world, you can't be here you can't be-" </p><p>"Shut up," Ralph dug the knife in a little harder, earning a pained whimper from the redhead, "You know how long it took me to find you? I was beginning to think I never would. But now I've got you. I'm going to kill you. I'll finally be free..." He let out a short, almost hysterical laugh. </p><p>"Ralph," Jack was still trying to talk, "I-I thought... I'd never see you again. I wanted- there's so much I wanted to say to you. I've regretted what happened since the day we got picked up, I swear-" </p><p>"Didn't I tell you to shut up? Or do you have a death wish?" Jack fell silent for once. Ralph drank in his pathetic appearance. His clothes had become disheveled in the scuffle and his face was streaked with blood from where Ralph had punched him. Terror burned in those icy blue eyes, tears starting to gather at the edges. To think he could reduce a grown adult to a cowering child in mere seconds. Ralph was a little surprised at himself. </p><p>"You regret it?" Ralph's voice was cold, "Is that supposed to make me forgive you? I still have the scar from when you threw that spear at me. I still have nightmares about all of it. The storm, Castle Rock, the fire... You think you regretting it will ever make what you did okay? You think it'll make those things go away?" </p><p>Jack shook his head frantically, the tears flowing freely now. Again he began to mumble, "Of course not. But- that doesn't mean I don't regret it." </p><p>"Shut the hell up!" Ralph yelled. His hand was shaking where he held the knife, but he couldn't stop. Not now, "You ruined me. Now I'm going to ruin you. I want you to die knowing what a piece of shit you are." </p><p>Suddenly Jack started laughing, a choked, broken sound which raised the hairs on the back of Ralph's neck. His grip on the redhead tightened. </p><p>"What's so funny?" </p><p>"I always thought this would happen someday," Jack managed to say between bursts of laughter, "I was terrified you'd come and kill me for what I did. I spent so many sleepless nights thinking you were about to burst through my door. And now you're actually here, about to kill me. I- I can't help but think it's perfect, somehow. " </p><p>"What?" Ralph hissed. Maybe Jack had lost it. Wouldn't be the first time. </p><p>"I can't bear to live like this anymore, knowing the things I've done and not being able to do anything to change them. Please, Ralph. Just go ahead and kill me." </p><p>Ralph was so shocked he almost laughed. Now Jack <em>wanted</em> to die? Again, Ralph looked him over. Jack really had lived a pitiful existence since the island. If he was anyone else, Ralph would have felt sorry for him. Would killing him be a mercy? </p><p>Jack seemed to notice Ralph's hesitation, because he whispered, "Don't tell me you came all this way just to back out at the last minute? I'm serious. Just let me die. I deserve it." </p><p>Hearing Jack beg like that sent a wave of disgust through Ralph. Was this really the person he had been afraid of for so long? </p><p>The two stared at each other in silence, Jack pleading, Ralph unflinching. Then Ralph let out a long sigh. </p><p>"I came here thinking killing you was the only way to end my suffering. I wanted you to feel all of the pain I've felt over these last few years. But seeing you like this made me realise that you're already feeling that pain and worse just by being alive. You're a pathetic excuse for a human being, and you deserve to live with what you've done." </p><p>"Wait, you're not going to-" Jack's words were drowned out by a blood curdling scream. He stared down at where Ralph had stabbed him through the hand with wide eyes. </p><p>Ralph stood up and started heading for the door. He wasn't going to kill Jack, but he sure as hell wasn't going to make life easier for him. </p><p>"Ralph, wait!" Ralph's head whipped back. Jack had staggered upwards and was trying to follow him, blood already seeping out from where the knife was impaled through his hand, "Please... Don't go. Torture me, kill me, do whatever you want, just don't go." </p><p>Ralph stared at him for a moment, conscious that this would be the last time he ever looked at him. He was suddenly brought back to that first day on the island, to Jack's smile when they reached the top of the mountain and the way they'd felt as if the entire world belonged to them. Now here they were, standing in Manhattan, Ralph with a scar on his chest and Jack with a knife in his hand. </p><p>"Fuck you." Were Ralph's final words before he walked out into the freezing night air, the door slamming shut behind him. </p><p>* </p><p>Years later, living in Boston close to the friends he had made near the start of his impossible journey, Ralph would sometimes wonder if he had made the right choice. Then he remembered Jack's messy apartment, the hopeless look in his eyes, the way he had begged for death. He was suffering a fate worse than death, just like Ralph had wanted. </p><p>Even after all he had gone through, there was still something that irked Ralph, on those dark nights when he couldn't sleep. He couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he'd stayed longer on that freezing night in Manhattan. Perhaps he could have gotten the closure he'd so desperately craved. </p><p>But no. He knew they were too far gone for closure, even if a tiny part of him still wished they could go back to the way they had once been. They would both continue to suffer for the consequences of what had transpired on that island for the rest of their lives. </p><p>At least Ralph could move on with his life to some extent with the knowledge that he had gotten his revenge. Jack never got whatever it was he had been seeking, and never would.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This took me a long time to write so I'm glad I managed to finish and post it! I wasn't sure if the bit where Ralph is just wandering around America was too tedious or not so I tried to make his actual interaction with Jack longer to make up for it. Also, sorry if the ending is a bit lackluster, I couldn't figure out what to do with it haha. I hope you liked the fic regardless!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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